


In This Town

by AlzeahXei



Series: It's Complicated [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Teen Wolf (TV), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disabled Character, Gen, OOC-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlzeahXei/pseuds/AlzeahXei
Summary: Sometimes surprises come in unpredictable ways...





	1. Everybody's Waiting for the Next Surprise

“Stiles.”

“Yes, daddy dearest?” Stiles piped into the line as he trekked up the miniature hill of the memorial park. Ponyo dutifully followed alongside, leading him to turn on corners and avoiding embarrassing tripping on aerial roots that may end up with him gaining a sore bum on an entirely unsexy occasion. No, nope, that’s just lame. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a hall full of policemen, or women – definitely don’t want to forget about them too – around your age, listening and nodding along as another police natters through the whole seminar, or something similarly not fun?”

There was a huff on the other side, full of humor and fond. “We’re on a fifteen minute break now, Stiles. And can’t I call to check up on my only son, since I’m three days away from returning home and you’re all alone?”

“Dad, have you forgotten Ponyo? That’s just, that’s just cruel dad. Ponyo’s been with us for nearly a decade now. She’s family too, right Ponyo?” Stiles bent and hovered the phone next to Ponyo’s mouth, and on cue, she let out a forlorn whine. If only she could add a few tears too, it would be perfect. “See, now she’s very, very disheartened.”

“Aww, Ponyo, I don’t mean that.” John groaned, and Stiles couldn’t help the light tick at the corner of his mouth. “You know I love you too girl.” Ponyo’s tail swung with an easy beat, her bark telling John Love you too, even if you’re an idiot sometimes. “And tell Stiles to stop dragging you into his nonsense. He should know better than to tease his poor father.”

Stiles couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him. It would certainly draw unnecessary attention from any other visitors (scowls, glares, disapproving mutters under their breath) who were expecting a quiet time with whoever that was buried six feet under as they chatted with the headstone. Hey, even Stiles still find it hard to have that bit of humor the moment he entered this graveyard. The moment he walked down the familiar path towards his mother’s grave.

But, lucky for Stiles, he couldn’t see anyone else here. And he’s trying, if not for himself, then for his father’s sake, to move on.

It didn’t matter if it’s just an iota at a time.

John waited patiently for his son’s laughter to die down, and continued. “You’re with your mother yet?”

“Right aboouuut…” Ponyo stopped, and she stood in his way so Stiles would be standing in the exact spot in front of his mother’s grave. It would be rather awkward to be sobbing and pouring his heart out to the wrong slab. He could imagine his mom understanding eyes, but she wouldn’t resist a snigger at his mistake too.

Stiles’ fingers reached out to trace her name on the marble. CLAUDIA STILINSKI. It’s both easy and hard to breathe here, sometimes. The silence around was more deafening than calm. “Now. I’m here. Do you want to have a chat with her?”

“No. No, I can see her when I’m home.” His father voice was rough, it didn’t clear away with a simple harrumph. “Just want to check on you kid. And make sure you don’t run my deputies haggard while I’m gone.”

Stiles snorted as he placed the fresh bouquet of pink carnations and yellow tulips on the ground. “Daaad, I’m sixteen going on seventeen–”

“Not for another ten months.”

“Which means I won’t be acting like a five years old most of the time. I can promise you won’t be getting any calls about accidental fire or out of the blue explosion or trespassing–”

“You know, I’m having half a heart to pack now and floor the road, my badge be damned.”

“AND you and mom taught me how to be an independent and responsible kid since I was born BLIND. Both of you coached me to survive in this crazy, scary, horrible world. Dad, you even trained me in self-defense and lock and knot picking. I’m pretty sure Cavendish will still be in one piece on the day of your return.”

John chuckled faintly, the warm in it travelled through the line and wrapped him like a blanket. “Don’t even think about trespassing, or I’ll have Parish put you behind bars, without bail.”

“Really dad, that was all you got through my awesome speech of independence and survival skills? I feel dread for the poor police on the stage. You guys aren’t even taking notes, are you?”

“I’ll send her your regards then.” John snorted at the same time the announcement of ‘please return to your seat as the next seminar will begin soon’ broadcasted through the hall. “I have to go. I’ll call you again tonight.”

“Be good dad. Love you.”

“YOU be good. Love you too, son.” A moment passed before John cut the line off. He understood, that for a son without sight, Stiles tried to compensate memorizing his surroundings and people with the rest of his senses. With John, it was his voice, the food he occasionally prepared on off days, or a short hug before he leave for work. And now, without a physical assurance beside him, all Stiles could grip onto was his voice. Even though Stiles had been teasing and laughing, there was a faint anxiety within his words. He knew his father was a part of a high risk job, one that would end his life with just one bullet or too much alcohol.

So John understands. He understood that his child needed to listen to his inhale and exhale a couple of minute before the connection ended, needed to feel his drumming heartbeat as he leaned on him.

Needed to know he still have one parent left to care and love and never leaving him on his own.

Stiles closed his eyes and held his breath, pointless gestures in bottling up his father’s warm voice, but still he didn’t breathe until his lungs ached in protest. Only then he let out a slow exhale and filled his lungs in the same speed. When he didn’t feel like choking on air, he smiled at the gravestone. “I know you’ve heard our conversation, mom. Dad can’t visit you, so you’ll have me and Ponyo as a company for now. There’s no gossip for you today – can’t have too much hubbubs in a small town like Cavendish or the elders wouldn’t be able to resist a heart attack.” Stiles chuckled as he released Ponyo from the harness. She didn’t need to be working here, not before his mother.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Ponyo as he took a seat on the earth, earning a lick from the Labrador on his arm. “Ponyo’s about to step over the line into ‘old lady’, you know.” Ponyo chuffed, indignant, so Stiles hid his grin amongst chocolate fur and scratched her flank. “In most recent news, Lee called – you remember, the nice staff? – and said next year Ponyo will have to retire. She’ll be too old to continue her service. We can keep her if we want to, but it’s best for me to train with a new guide before she officially retires. Lee mentioned that it won’t always be as easy to build up a quick rapport like me and Ponyo – the soulmates that we are.” Stiles chuckled weakly. “Lee joked that Ponyo needs to get used to having a new friend around, or she’ll be jealous once she knows her job has been taken over by an amateur.

“He’ll try to arrange the training as soon as he can – maybe within this week or the next. Mom, what do you think of a goldie? I know you had one in your childhood.” Stiles rested his chin on Ponyo’s back. “Or we can get another Lab like Ponyo? Hmmm, I wish we can get a Great Dane though, like Marmaduke? It’ll be so much fun having a giant guiding a blind.” Ponyo barked skeptically. “Or maybe not. You’re right, Dad’s going to have someone tailing me all day long. It’s like I’ve not been living in Cavendish for the past sixteen years and been out on the street since I’m four.” Stiles sighed loudly. “Mom, you need to teach Dad to have some fun sometimes.” He paused, complexion greened. “And I don’t need to know about the fun either of you done in Dad’s dream. No son should suffer through that.”

Stiles imagined that he could hear his mother laughter pealed amongst the rolling breeze.

Stiles sat there until the tail of the wind was no longer around them. He leaned forward to trace her name, word by word. CLAUDIA STILINSKI. “Hopefully we can introduce the new guide the next time we’re here, Mom. I miss you, I love you.” And he was on his feet, with Ponyo harness clicking into place.

They were slow in steps, taking the path back to the entrance of the memorial park, like they usually do. Each reluctant step forward was a pace for them to collect the remaining pieces left behind. Stiles was deep in his nostalgia when Ponyo came to a halt. It was a faint tug on the harness, but Stiles had been long familiarized with each of Ponyo’s motion, small hints picked up by touch or sound.

Ponyo’s growl came next, but it was more of an assessing growl, uncertain if she was facing with a threat or not. A second growl clashed with hers, more animalistic, but unrefined, as if they’re having the wrong pharynx to modify air into proper rumble. Stiles relaxed his tensed body in case he needs to run, needs to fight, but within the maze of his thoughts and memories there was a low buzzing, tiny yet unrelenting. It was a distressing hum, an outside source of a frantic mind trapped, so Stiles followed the trail back.

As expected, it was the mind of a human. Well, the least he could hope for was for the lack of language barrier.

_‘Hi, who are you?’_

The growl intensified, aggressive and feral. But from the bond there were jolts of anger and apprehension and wariness and that little bit of curiosity, so Stiles was far from discouraged. _‘Let me guess, you can’t even remember your name?’_ Anger and humiliation escalated. _‘Don’t be mad! With a messy mind like yours I don’t think I can even remember that I’m born blind.’_ A soft sigh of relief rushed out of Stiles mouth as anger reduced a fraction. _‘You can understand me, right? That means it’s not completely broken. I can help you to organize, put every memory back into order, if you can trust me.’_ Stiles offered, although he wasn’t sure if he could manage to do so. Not even his dad was aware of his telepathic ability, and here he was, trying to help a stranger sort out his confused mind. Was he crazy? _‘I can at least help you gain your name back, if you want to.’_ Yes, sadly, he was.

Growls from Ponyo and the stranger have subsided, but both remained on high alert. Ponyo was protecting her ward, while the stranger was protecting themselves. Was on guard because they didn’t want to be hurt, again. Stiles could hardly imagine the treatment the stranger had to endure for a mind to lose control and crumbled into chaos. For the stranger to been through military torture (or worst, his mind supplied) that his mind was unwilling to hold on as a big piece anymore. His body shuddered involuntarily at that thought when a feeble tug drew his attention back to the stranger. Stiles tilted his head, and again the tug was felt, this one a bit more firm than the last. _‘Does that means yes, I want my name back?’_

This tug felt like hair-pulling, and Stiles couldn’t help the small grin that appeared on his face. Annoyance flashed through the bond, though not hostile, so Stiles took a step forward towards where the bond ended. Ponyo was hesitant at first, an unease whine was released as she nosed his finger, so Stiles brushed through her muzzle to her head. “It’s okay, girl, the stranger won’t hurt us.” Ponyo remained reserved, but at least she’s moving along with him until he was within arm reach with the stranger. At this distance Stiles’ nose picked up on the faded scent of blood. Was this why Ponyo was restless? He raised both of his hand to the height of the stranger head (apparently the stranger was taller than him, right, couldn’t be irked about that now). _‘I’ll need to touch you. Do you still want to continue?’_

A minute with no movement from either side progressed into two, then three. Stiles was about to retract his hands when the grass beneath their feet crunched, and the distance of the bond shortened the same time fine hair brushed against each of his finger. The only gesture that revealed his surprise was the sharp intake of air, but soon Stiles cupped the stranger’s face and brought their foreheads together, the bond opened the stranger mind without having his invaded.

The mind was a complicated organization, let alone having to mind connected to each other. There was no logic, nor system to the stranger’s mind, so Stiles had to create one. To imagine that the stranger’s mind wasn’t an incomprehensible maze of past and present and emotions, but a clutter of puzzle pieces. It might take time to complete a full picture, but by attaching two or three pieces together, a fitting clue would appear, no matter how small it was. So Stiles searched meticulously through the thousands of pieces and linked two that had clear relation to each other.

This was the first time Stiles had used his telepathy to help someone else rebuilt their mind at an extended period, so it was no surprise when the bond fizzled out after he managed only a handful of joined pieces. When he was back to his consciousness, Stiles found he was supported on his feet by two hands seizing each side of his arms. Ponyo was barking frenziedly beside him, so Stiles lowered one hand to brush her head, her ears, while murmuring in a soft voice. “I’m fine, Ponyo. I think I kinda overexerted myself here. Just need a rest, maybe.” The hands that pushed him to seat on the ground allowed no refusal, so Stiles had no other choice but to crash his bum and collect his breath. Ponyo stuck her face close, alternating between sniffing and licking, which Stiles couldn’t help to laugh about. “Ponyo, stop! I’m fine. Stop, NO. I don’t want you to be my first kiss! No!”

Amongst the laughter and whining a soft snort slotted in, and Stiles was only able to face the stranger when Ponyo had finally calmed down from her fervent checkup. “So, can I know what’s your name?” A dry stare was directed at him, so dry it made his skin itch. Stiles snorted, unimpressed. “I know I’d read through your mind and helped you mended a tiny part of it, that doesn’t mean I ‘m rude enough to assume you want me to know you, or call out your name. You’d been, pardon my word, violated mentally, and that makes you feel vulnerable. People can say it’s irrational, ridiculous even, to feel week because someone messed up your mind, but you don’t.” Stiles took a deep breath. “You don’t. You’ve lost so much, and had been stolen so much from. And that’s why I won’t, I can’t ask any more from you without your consent.”

The only sound was the rustling of leaves from their branches and the far traffic from the main road a mile away from the graveyard. Since Stiles was no longer fatigue, he rose to his feet, one hand closed onto Ponyo’s harness. “Let’s go home, Ponyo.” Ponyo led him down the shallow slope, carefully over surfaced roots and finally to the metal rails Stiles were told were a part of the walls that enveloped the memorial park, keeping scavengers or pranksters out. Though with the woods that surrounded this town, locals were much more worried about graves upturned in the middle of the night that jokes played by reckless teenagers. They strolled down the pavement, a common path that their footprints and other visitors left marks on whenever they found time to visit someone in the park, whether in silence or rounds of chatter.

It was a good workout, whenever Stiles visited his mother without his father’s company. That means he didn’t have the luxury of a vehicle to shorten the walking distance from home to the park. By the time they reached the corner that marked the entry of residential neighborhood, sweat had soaked through Stiles’ shirt, no doubt dampening his hoodie too. Ponyo’s state was not far from him; the increased panting and sluggishness in her pace spoke more about her exhaustion than anything else. At least both of them would be too tired tonight to do more than filling their stomach with dinner. Or at least Ponyo would do so; Stiles would rather bounce into his bed the first thing right after shower.

Ponyo was waiting with him on the porch for Stiles to fetch the keys out of his pocket when the bond tugged again. The keys jangled in his hand as he jerked in surprise. Though, reflecting about it later, he shouldn’t be, since he didn’t cut the bond through and through. He’d just…walked away, which was rather stupid of him. Right. Stiles turned on his feet to face the stranger at the front lawn when another dread flitted by. The stranger, with a body of dried blood, standing on an open lawn of the sheriff house, where nosy neighbors could spot the minute they wanted to have a nice view of the outdoors. Before Stiles could establish up a panic, the stranger spoke up in his rugged voice, clearly unused for an amount of time.

“Logan.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. He was left standing and gawping on the spot without any other explanation or verification until Ponyo got a hold the hem of the hoodie and tugged with a whine. Right, bed.

“Logan,” Stiles flailed his hand at the door, very aware he’s gesturing like a drunk. “Do you want a shower, and dinner? I can rummage something for you to change into. It’ll be more comfortable than what you’re wearing now. And I’m betting you’re kinda hungry?”

There was a huff, more incredulity than annoyed, and Stiles counted that as acceptance, since most people tend to feel like that whenever he’s in their circle.

Stiles just hoped no one call his father. Yet.

 

o.o.o₰o.o.o

 

Stiles herded Logan towards the bathroom upstairs, all the while fetching a clean towel and pointing out the position of every toiletry. When there was a flicker of bafflement through the thin bond, evidently about the smooth precision even when he couldn’t SEE, Stiles rolled his eyes. “You know, I have been living in this house for the past sixteen years. Unless we change the entire placement of furniture and appliances, I won’t get lost within these walls.” Stiles paused, his face paled. “That is to say, please don’t play a prank on me by moving everything. Have I told you my dad’s a sheriff?”

“Stiles, get out.” Logan groused, impatient. Stiles nodded and headed back down.

He was at the last step when the surge of water started. Stiles had found a shirt and sweatpants that his father wouldn’t miss wearing, and hopefully able to cover most of Logan, since the man was taller than his father. He poured Ponyo’s dinner, listening to her crunching through the kibble as he prepared a simple dish of mac and cheese. He was no restaurant chef, but through years of trial and error Stiles had amassed experiences that he could proudly assured that the macaroni wouldn’t be raw or his cheese burnt. His body memorized the timing for each step, from waiting for the water to boil to adjusting the temperature of the oven and the round timer beside it. He was cleaning the utensils and putting away Ponyo’s bowl when footsteps approached the kitchen and stopped just at the entrance, there was a barely audible creak on the frame. Clearly Logan was leaning against it.

“You need a shower, kid.” It wasn’t a suggestion, from how Logan intoned.

“Are you always this grumpy, old man?” Stiles raised his brows at the dry stare he earned. “And are you scrunching you nose now? That’s not how you treat someone who has prepared dinner for you.”

“Go.” He paused, taking an interest at the meal inside the oven. “I’ll make sure dinner is still edible.”

Stiles gave him the stink eye he deserved before sighing theatrically, laying the last of forks and spoons and left the kitchen. “Just take the mac and cheese out when the timer goes off. And if I’m not down when it’s done, you go ahead and eat first.” His words trailed up the stairs.

By the time he was in fresh clothes, Logan was half way through his portion of mac and cheese. Stiles didn’t bother much with small talks, not when his current priority was passing out on the bed, so they finished their meal in silence, occasionally interrupted by Ponyo’s snores from the living room. Stiles wasn’t too dazed to forget about his guest’s sleeping arrangements, though.

“Can you take the couch? Or…”

Logan shrugged before he flopped onto the couch, hands and legs stretched until they popped. “I’ve had slept on worse ground, kid. I’m not going to be picky.”

“Right, you’d been through WWI and II.” Stiles paused, and then shook his head. “Wait, that doesn’t make sense, or I’m the one not making sense…” He sighed, drained. “My brain’s nearly dead. Can we continue this tomorrow? Assuming you’re still here by sunrise?”

Logan nodded, but quickly affirmed his stay with spoken words. “Yeah. I’ll be staying.” There was faint hesitation in his next set of question, uncertainty clashing with pride to ask it out.

“Just spit it out.” Stiles said finally.

Logan swallowed and said with measured reluctance. “I need you…to help me remember. I don’t need my past, just…there is a place I need to go back to. Somewhere I belonged, somewhere I’m accepted and I acknowledged others. Somewhere…” He let out a frustrated growl, unable to find the suitable word. Ponyo jerked out of her snore, but not her sleep.

“’Home’ and ‘family’.” Logan scowled at him, but not for the wrong reasons. “That’s your ‘somewhere’.” Stiles lifted a small smile. “I’ll help. Be warned that I’m very new on telepathy, I’m not sure if I’ll be helping most of the time, but I can try, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay. We can start after breakfast. Goodnight, Logan.” Stiles didn’t wait for a respond as he headed for his bedroom, unable to resist the siren call of his bed any longer. He was halfway up the stairs when Logan’s quiet voice was heard.

“Night.”

John called the moment his head touched the pillow. Stiles couldn’t remember if he did answer the phone, or what the conversation had been about. All he knew was the blissful sleep that blanketed him.

 

o.o.o₰o.o.o

 

The house was quiet in the morning as Stiles dried his face, but the scent of eggs and bacon had filled the air around by the time he was downstairs. Ponyo was happily munching away her meal instead of greeting Stiles, so he entered the kitchen to greet Logan. “Morning. Did you sleep well?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly as he placed breakfast on the table. “I don’t need much sleep. You mind scramble and bacon?”

Stiles flashed him a smirk as he started the coffee maker. “I’m a teenager, my stomach eats EVERYTHING. You want coffee?”

“Won’t do much for me.” Logan took a seat and began on his breakfast.

With a good night rest Stiles’ mind was back on track, meaning every little hint would pique his curiosity. It must have shown on his face (his father had mentioned his face was an open book – a picture book for infants, specifically) for Logan to snort curtly. “After breakfast, kid.”

Stiles nodded as his foot tapped to a nonsensical rhythm. “I can wait.”

And he did wait, but had he told Logan about his ADHD? Because he couldn’t stay still for more than a minute, excessive energy vibrating inside and eager to escape through his pores while his mind dashed through , and Logan was definitely sending unwarranted glares towards his jiggling legs and drumming fingers. Logan was lucky Stiles’ mouth was filled, or his eardrums might take a hit from his unfiltered mouth. He would need a couple of Adderall before Logan’s glare scorches him where he stands.

With a stomach filled and system drugged, all occupants under the roof migrated to the living room, where Logan sat at the coffee table while Stiles sat across him, Ponyo laid next to him on the couch. “Ponyo, you know dad doesn’t like you on the furniture.”

Ponyo chuffed and angled her muzzle away. Stiles grinned as he scratched her ears. “You’re so spoilt, old lady.” Ponyo nipped him on his pinky, rebuffing the label given to her.

“You said your dad is the sheriff,” Logan drew Stiles attention back to him. “Where is he?”

“In a seminar with mandatory attendance for every officer invited. Don’t worry, he’ll be back two days later. Hopefully by then you‘ll be on your way home.”

The corner of Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re trying to kick me out already, kid?”

“Somebody must be missing you, old man.” Stiles said with a grin he hoped was more of mischief than commiserating. “Come on, let’s get started. I want a lunch break later.”

Like the day before, once the bond opened Logan’s mind to him, Stiles began to sift through the innumerable fragments of memories, finding a pair to match up, and join another piece together as they formed into a bigger picture. This time Stiles had a prior knowledge to properly manipulate his telepathy controls, so slowly and surely, these small pictures had slotted into their proper timeline – from childhood to adult, from peace to war, from first love to heartbreak. From death to salvation.

From James Howlett, to Jimmy Logan, to Wolverine.

Still, these memories were merely surface prints. A description on a label, but you won’t know what you’ll be having until you have an actual look at the content inside. His control was losing its grip by the time Stiles was about to patch up details, and Logan pulled back first this time, his hand firm on Stiles’ chest as he pushed the boy back to let the couch take his weight. Ponyo rested her head on Stiles’ lap, a silent anchor as Stiles tipped his head back while waiting for the lightheadedness to dwindle to none. It wasn’t strenuous, to use telepathy to read others’ mind or see the world through their eyes. Stiles had often ‘watched’ a movie or a game through his father‘s eyes, and John wasn’t even aware that he had an extra audience with him.

But to be altering someone’s mind? That had been the first, and concentration was not Stiles forte, especially not when it sapped all his energy and leaving him fatigue later.

A glass tapped his palm and his fingers wrapped around it instinctually. “It’s water. Drink up, you need it.” Logan ordered.

“Do you always sound this commanding? We aren’t in military, you know.” Despite the mutters, Stiles brought the glass up to his lips and drink the water sip by sip. He wanted to keep the liquid in, not out.

Once again Logan flashed his feral smirk, but since Stiles had literally been in his mind, the smirk had long lost its intimidation effect. “If we’re in military, I’d have dumped the water straight down your throat, kid.”

“Harsh, and totally inappropriate abuse.” Those words were muffled into bubbles as Stiles said them into his water. Logan heard them all the same and burst out laughing as he headed for the kitchen.

“Oh, kid. You’re hundred years too young to talk about abuse.”

Stiles didn’t answer him, his teeth biting the rim of the glass as water trickled down his tongue. He listened as Logan went through the supplies, opening one shelf and shutting the fridge after he’d obtained the necessary foods. When chopping sounds were heard, Stiles couldn’t help but asked, “Are you using my knife? Why do you need a knife when you have those…wicked claws? Are those claws, because what do you call these…sharp blades (?) tearing out of your knuckles? Don’t you feel pain whenever, you know, they’re out and then in?”

The chopping had ceased and Stiles found himself to be the center of an exceptionally deadpan stare. Stiles just stared back with his best innocent eyes he’d mastered for years before. Usually it only worked on fools. “Don’t you ever choke on you words?”

“Not really. I don’t have a mind-to-mouth filter, so everything just gushes through without anything getting stuck. Like Niagara Falls?”

Stiles could practically hear Logan’s eyes rolling. His annoyance was loud and clear. The chopping had continued, and Stiles had finished his drink. With Ponyo napping away, there was only so much that could occupy Stiles’ mind before he started to blurt again. “I haven’t gotten any answer.”

“…”

“Not even one?”

“…”

“Ookaaaay. How about this, this is a simpler one: what are you making?”

“Sandwich. And I’m not sharing.”

“Booooo.” Stiles rapped his fingers against the glass, his nails drumming another indescribable rhythm as his sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling. Dizziness had faded to a low hum at the back of his head, and Stiles would like it better if it could be completely gone. “So, I know you’re not completely human. Will you be offended if I ask what you are?”

A weary sigh was heard before the tap was on and running water over the knife took over. Stiles listened as Logan cleared up the supplies he had used and placed the sandwich on a plate before returning to the living room. Stiles jolted in surprise when his wrist was caught and his hand turned so his palm was facing upwards, then soft bread with loaded fillings landed on it. Stiles’ lips curled in delight. “And I thought you aren’t sharing?”

“Shut it and eat, kid.” Logan grumbled as he tore into his first bite, swallowed and then continued. “Yes, these wicked ‘blades’ are claws. No, I don’t want better a better nomenclature for them.” He shot Stiles down the moment he opened his mouth, so the mouth closed into a ridiculous pout. “I heal fast, so the pain is the same as having a needle poked you when you stitch. And no, why would I want to use my claws to chop a carrot or dice an onion? These claws can cut through bones, kid, and I don’t mean rabbit’s only.”

Stiles stared at him, oddly contemplative, and asked, “So, say, one day, you’re so hungry you can eat a whole horse, will you use your claws and slice ‘em up?”

“I would rather slice up a cow, kid. More meat.” Logan’s respond was morbidly dry that Stiles didn’t want to resist the laughter that burst out of him. His trembling body had waked Ponyo up, but she merely stared at Stiles droopily before curling back into sleep, this time cleverly out of contact from Stiles’ body.

“You,” Stiles tried to choke out in between laughs. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an awfully perverse sense of humor?”

“I need to have a particular audience for my humor to work, so what that says about you?” Logan arched a brow.

Stiles’ grin could possibly split his face in half. “That I’m such a pleasant and loyal listener you should tip me instead?”

There was a huff, laced with caustic amusement, as Logan finished his sandwich. Stiles let his laughing fit cool down and took another bite, soaking up the moment as it lightened up. Logan didn’t notice, since he was the one in the bubble, but the air around him was constantly tensed, like a knot too taut it couldn’t be pry loose. Even without a visible gesture or emotion, Stiles could tell from the bond that Logan was startled by the rare amusement surfacing within the proximity of a teenager he’d just met yesterday. He was confused, uncomfortably so, so Stiles finished the remaining sandwich as Logan worked through his contradicting emotions. When it was clear that they wouldn’t be continuing the previous banter, Stiles stood back up and offered, “I need to get some studies done. Want to be my company to the library?”

There was silence. Then there was a quiet “Okay.”


	2. Everybody Hail to the Beetroot King

“So, let’s hope that everyone is too busy with whatever it is in their mind to notice you,” Stiles murmured as he locked the door, Ponyo’s wagging tail beating steady rhythm on his thigh. “I mean, are you even noticeable? Just how appealing are you?”

Logan’s feral smirk instantly morphed to a charming grin. “I was informed by a reliable source that I could have every girl, and GUY, in the room I walk into.”

Stiles gaped at him, and then he buried his face into his hand or he might lose himself to hysteria. “Unbelievable. Have you ever come across the word ‘humble’. I want to have a talk with your ‘reliable source’ ‘cause that is just wrong. So, so much wrong I don’t know where right is anymore.”

There was a tap on his right arm. “Here. And the other side is universally known as ‘left’. Try not to forget it.”

Stiles has the urge to ruin Logan’s face with a few scratches, but that admittedly wasn’t a great idea (and childish), so he compressed the urge down to a mere slap on the man’s bicep. And ouch, talk about muscles having muscles.

Just then Logan tensed, and Stiles was having the dreaded feeling that he couldn’t take a playful punch when he said. “A patrol car is turning into this corner.”

Stiles eyes widened. “Oh fuck.” Stiles cursed under his breath, and without a second thought he clamped a hand on Logan’s wrist, dragging the stunned man’s hand until it got a hold of the handle. “Just, trust me on this. And let me do the talking.”

Logan snorted, but followed him down the stairs nonetheless. “That I have no problem handing over.”

Stiles’ elbow jabbed him on his side as the boy adjusted his grip, and Stiles merely returned his glare with an innocent smile. This incompatible expression exchange continued until the cruiser parked next to them, and the deputy behind the wheel stepped out once the door opened.

“Stiles?”

“Deputy Connor! Hi,” Stiles gave her the most brilliant smile he could muster up. “How are you today? I’m great! Isn’t the weather great today?”

Connor humored him by taking a glance at the sky. “The sun is a bit covered up today, but I don’t think we’ll be getting a storm anytime soon.” She lowered her gaze towards Logan. “And who’s this man beside you, Stiles?”

“This? This man? He’s uh, uuhhh JAMES!”

“James?” Connor closed the door ominously calm and came around to lean on the hood. “And why are you with ‘James’?”

“Because, well because you see, Deputy Connor, James is here to bond with Ponyo.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Stiles swallowed dryly and nearly choked on air. “Well, that’s because he needs to get a guide dog but is reluctant on the idea, so the center recommended me to give him a simple walkthrough on teaming up with a guide dog that will definitely be a part of the family after half a decade of interaction.” When no one responded to him, Stiles added lamely. “James isn’t that fond of dogs.”

Connor sent him a bemused stare before turning to Logan. “I’m sorry to be rude, but you don’t seem to have vision impairment.”

“It’s for his daughter!” When two set of stares were directed on him, Stiles steamrolled through with floundering hands. Logan had to angle his torso a few times to avoid getting an accidental smack. “’Cause, see, James here hates dogs, but he loves his daughter, like, she’s the world to him. So when she asked to have a guide dog, James had to reconsider his feelings towards the canine population, but it’s a challenge for him to understand just how important guide dog can be for a blind, so he consulted the center, and the center send him to me. Ta-da!”

By the end of his explanation, Connor had folded both her arms together, and in case that wasn’t a clear gesture, her face had hardened to an interrogative state. “What is the name of your daughter, James?”

“Laura.” Logan said without a flinch of muscle.

“I see.” Connor flicked her gaze downwards. “Is there a reason why James is wearing your father’s old academy t-shirt, Stiles?”

“Because Ponyo’s excitement in having a new companion resulted in some mild and embarrassing accidents.” Ponyo whined with her ears and tail hung low. “His clothes are in the dryer now, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want public indecency as your first arrest for the day, right?” Stiles’ grin widened until his face muscles strained with complains.

“And is the sheriff aware of this?”

“Dad? Yeah. Yeah, he knew. The center needs parental consent before they ship a stranger to their son, right? So they informed him, and I assured him that if James goes out of line, I’m sure Ponyo will be the first to drag him by the leg to the station. With her fangs.”

Connor’s look was far from convinced by Stiles’ story, but at least her arms had unfolded. She took another glance at Stiles. “I’ll be patrolling around the area, Stiles.”

“Thanks for your hard work, Deputy Connor. I’ll call you if I need anything.” Stiles listened until the sound of engine was out of hearing distance before letting out a long sigh. “That was close. Too close.”

“She’s protective of you.” Logan noted.

“Because I’m the mascot of Sheriff Department. Or was. I think Deputy Strauss’ daughter has taken over the throne.” Stiles shrugged as he set off, Ponyo a second shadow beside him. “The Library, Ponyo. Oh, and don’t let go of the handle. Pretty sure Deputy Connor has told every deputy about you. They’ll be on a look out, at least.”

“Don’t I feel honored,” Logan scoffed, but his fingers loosely cling to the handle. “Just how long did Ponyo take to get used to you?”

“Oh ha ha, there’s your misplaced humor again.” Stiles remarked smugly. “I’ll let you know that we ACED our teamwork training in just TWO months while others need a minimum of six months to find equal grounds. We’re well-known soulmates amongst the staffs.”

“Sure you are.” Ignoring Logan’s jab, Stiles swerved into another conversation. “Will you be bored in the library? I’ll be in there no less than three hours, so you can walk around town with Ponyo in the meantime. She knows the best place to lounge about.”

Logan was in a contemplating silence. Then he said, “You’re homeschooled?”

Stiles nodded, pausing at a junction before deeming it safe to go onward. “It’s a small town, but not remote, so it wasn’t necessary to hire a tutor specialize in teaching the disables here since we’re few in between and there are admittedly better educations in cities that are just a drive away. Of course I need to register with the Ministry of Education and supply a monthly report about my progress, but it’s actually rather cool. I mean, we need to wait half a year for a movie to premiere here when other parts of the world have the Blu-ray DVD copies already, but I can get the up-to-date Braille books from multiple support groups on and off line ship in. The library doesn’t have this much luxury as I do.”

“You don’t invest on audio-books?”

Stiles’ shoulders cringed. “I don’t mind it, but my ears are kinda picky about who’s reading what book. I mean, I don’t mind the crabby voice yelling, ‘I’ll read you one very last book if you swear you’ll go the fuck to sleep’ into my ears, but imagine that same voice crooning through character’s lines like, ‘Show me, Christian, show me how much you love me’ follow by ‘I’ll tie you up and fuck you by the ass, Ana’. It’s CREEPY, right? I’m not the only one that feels that, right?”

Logan was laughing too hard he’s hiccupping in several instances, so Stiles didn’t bother for a reply. Stiles had to hold on to his arm whenever they’re crossing a gap or a platform in case the man tumbles down into the middle of the road. The traffic was slow here in Cavendish, but it wouldn’t do to scare the elderly drivers to their early grave. Although Stiles was hoping this commotion would loosen the deputies’ vigilance on Logan. It would be bad if they decide to call the sheriff first and interrogate him later. Or worst, both of them.

“Logan, Logan, we’re here.” Stiles risked a finger and poked his bicep. Ouch, still hard. “Calm down already. It’s the library, and I don’t want to get the stink eye from Sofia because you don’t have an ‘off’ switch.”

Logan coughed his way down the laughter, but his body was still trembling by the time they entered the library and passed through the counter. Sofia must be having a break since no one was manning behind the computer. The library rarely did any large overhaul, so Stiles managed to drag Logan to the far end table without knocking into any stray table or chairs, where no one would mind a little noise since an occasional reading was conducted here. Ponyo settled at one end of the table while Logan had calmed down enough to pick a seat and not drop out of it. While Stiles poured his reading materials on the table, Logan took the chance to peruse around.

“Most of the books here are from donation?” Logan asked as he leafed through a dog-eared ‘The Feminine Mystique’. There were a few notes or questions added into the margins, and doodles in the other.

“Mmhmn.” Stiles’ fingers followed a line of Braille before both hands return to his laptop. “As you can see, this town library is adequately large for the slow life here. Not all locals pick up reading to pass time outside of work. Sometimes they found something interesting from their trips around Europe and brought it back with them. It actually took years before all the shelves are filled, although if you look closely, they still have a hole or two, right?” The corner of Stiles’ lips lifted at Logan’s snort.

Abandoning ‘The Hobbit’ at its habitat, Logan came to stand beside Stiles, staring at the dotted words on the pages and confirming that he’d never learned Braille. Maybe he should just stick to Morse code. “What are you doing, kid?”

“An essay on the history of male circumcisions.”

“Circumcision.”

“Yeeaup.” The ‘p’ was popped with precision.

“The HISTORY of male circumcision.”

“I need a topic for my economic study on the progression of corporate industries based on genders and their effects on international trades. I’m thinking out of the box here so it won’t bore whoever it is for marking the paper.”

Logan stared at the document as Stiles typed in line by line of his research, one earphone was in as he listened to the laptop reading along his essay, informing him when a misspell word or grammatical error occurred. Logan continued staring until another paragraph ended with a dot before he sighed and sunk his fingers into brown hair and messed it up. “You win, kid.”

“HEEEYYY!” Stiles swatted his arms around in hopes to get a hit.

“Stilinski dear, this is a library.” Sofia reminded politely from the front counter.

Stiles groaned as he rubbed his face and muttered under his breath. “I hate you so much now.”

Logan didn’t bother to cover his snigger as he fetched ‘Inkheart’ for a quick scan. His grin stretched wider at Stiles heated glare homing on him as he return to sit at the kitty-corner.

 

o.o.o₰o.o.o

 

“So, since it’s time for dinner, we can–” Stiles choked on the collar when his hoodie was yanked and he stumbled backwards. Only Ponyo’s steady figure behind him managed to break his fall. “WA-Hey!”

“Shut up.” Logan hissed, jaw clenched down hard. Stiles was startled by the instant change of mood – from leisure to high on alert within a blink – and bit the inside of his cheek so words wouldn’t start gushing out. One hand rubbed Ponyo down her back when she tensed along, a growl teetering on the tip of her tongue. Then Logan sprinted left towards the alley beside the library and a yelp rung out. Dumbfounded, Stiles’ mind could think of nothing else but to follow Logan and listen to conversations he had no head or tail of.

“I killed you! You should be dead on that god forsaken island!”

“What the hell, man? You killed ME? You didn’t even have a cameo on my first solo movie! I know it’s the production team’s fault that they don’t have the budget to hire you–” The man, voiced muffled by the mask he wore, gasped in realization. “Oh! OH OH! Are you revealing a spoiler here? Naughty naughty, Wolverine. You can’t do that, our fans–”

“The fuck you’re talking about! I decapitated you! A clean slice!” Logan roared, enraged beyond his control.

“Well, sweetheart, the good thing about having my body is,” The man sang to high notes. “When you cut off any part of me, they grow back, like weeds! Anyone out there interested in tallying up all those lost limbs?”

Logan growled, wild and fuming, and Stiles could literally feel his claws tearing through the skin tissues– _‘LOGAN, don’t!’_

Logan choked on a rumble, but his anger remained at its peak, so was the unyielding fist on the man’s…suit? Costume?

“OOooo, who do we have here?” The man tried to wriggle out of Logan’s hold. “Aren’t you the kid in the maze movie? Or are you still running with wolves? Hmm, but we’re on the wrong side of the globe here. These fanfiction roles are so confusing!”

“Umm,” Stiles has a new respect for the guy in costume to be able to render him speechless for more than three seconds. “Are you hungry?” He shrugged off the pairs of stare directed on him – one incredulous, the other with glee. “We’re heading for dinner–”

“What, Stiles, no! You don’t–”

“And I’ll be more than honored to join you!” The man crowed. “Wolverine dear, do you mind? These creases are impossible to iron out.”

With a last growl that meant death more than intimidation, Logan released the man with a shove. He remained within arm’s reach with the vigilance of a dragon guarding its gold though. The man, however, ignored the glower fixed on him and bounced towards Stiles. “Hi, since our universes are irrevocably colliding, why don’t we get to know each other first? Call me Deadpool.” Stiles’ hand was trapped in an enthusiastic shake.

“Hi, I’m Stiles.” He tilted his gaze at the chocolate Lab standing on guard beside him. “This is Ponyo.”

The shaking was paused as Deadpool studied him after he was done with Ponyo. “Huh, so you ARE the kid that ran with the wolves. When did you get blind?”

“I was…born blind?” Stiles said tentatively, actually worried where their conversation might lead to.

“Oohhhh, you poor kid, you.” Deadpool wailed as he clasped both hands on each side of Stiles’ shoulder. “Be strong kid. We’re created from poor artist and inferior writer, and thus we live for our fans only. So when the fans want us to be a cast in their horrifyingly no-good shitty fantasies, you just have to eat the pain. It’s depressing sometimes, and there is no light at the end of the tunnel – they lied to you, fucking script writers. Yes, I’m talking about you!”

Stiles blinked with his jaw opened, his mind unhelpfully blank and unable to supply him with an appropriate respond. Maybe food could help. Yeah, food, and an adjusted mind. Because frankly, if Logan’s mind is like a labyrinth with no center of gravity, Deadpool’s was a hurricane storm in the middle of the sea, and Stiles was the baby sailor with the worst luck trying to navigate around the brutal twisters. “The diner’s just down the road. They have mean Rappie pie and ginger beef.”

 

o.o.o₰o.o.o

 

Ben’s Diner was a local favorite, since everyone had been frequenting there since Ben’s great grandfather first open it. This Ben junior was the fourth generation to be succeeding the name, for old time’s sake. It was a blessing for the townsfolk that the family recipes were preserved so well too through the decades. It would sadden many if the diner were forced to close due to disagreement in flavoring or texture of the crisp.

Stiles chose the table at the veranda and Ben joined them instantly. If Ben was shocked by the appearances of Logan and Deadpool sitting on the same table as him, he didn’t outright express it, smiling cordially as he recommended the dish of the day and took down their orders. Both Ben and Deadpool stared in silence at Stiles and Logan’s laughter when Ben suggested the beef slices that were freshly shipped in ("This is such a Brad and Alex moment," Deadpool whistled). Before he leaves, Ben suggested Stiles to take one of the tables inside, but Stiles just waved him off with a joke. “Let this teenager have his fun, Benny.”

“He just doesn’t want you to be seen with this nutjob.” Logan said, paying no attention to Deadpool’s indignant exclamations.

“The folks around understand why I need Ponyo to go around town, but there are still does that won’t accept to be eating with an animal beside them.” He shrugged at the raised brows by both men (it’s interesting to watch the expressive eyepieces of Deadpool’s mask. Shouldn’t mask muffle away most of the visible reaction?). “Ben doesn’t mind, but there’s no need to bother him.”

“All about compromising, huh kid.” Deadpool nodded in comprehension as he kicked his feet up on the table, and were promptly smacked down by Logan. “So harsh. I need a little love here, Jimmy boy.”

Logan rolled his eyes and snarled out, “Why are you here?”

Ignoring Logan, Deadpool leaned closer to Stiles. “Soooo, how did you–” Deadpool burst into a series of giggles no different from a five years old. “Stumbled upon Big Bad Wolf, Little Red? Did you screech at the Baker? That’s a must-do-scene.”

Stiles’ mind had finally learned the importance of disregarding 99% of Deadpool’s rambling (his dad was the best model in regarding with his daily interactions with Stiles) and reply to the only topic that mattered. To the responder, anyway. “We met at the cemetery.” The eyepieces enlarged. “I was on my way back from visiting my mother; he caught my…attention and didn’t refuse my help, so here we are.”

“Help?” Deadpool scrutinized Logan from the tip of his hair to his boots. “Should I do a ‘sugar daddy’ joke here? Or ‘ice baby’–OY, precious merchandise here, you damn mutt!” Deadpool grumbled and shifted his chair closer to Stiles while nursing his sore calf. “Don’t be mad at me just coz my movie grossing is higher than the rest of X-Men productions, Hugh. I don’t do script. Just get yourself invited to the sequel next time.”

“Why are you here, Deadpool?” Stiles interjected before a blood bath could occur. “Are you here for Logan?”

“See, Lassie, this is how civilized human should act!” Deadpool snapped.

“Well, aren’t we lucky we ain’t _homo sapiens_ , bub.” Logan flashed him a saccharine grin.

Deadpool angled his head to rest on the rim of the chair. “Don’t mind this miserable man, Stiles. He’ll sing his way into his joy soon. And yes,” Deadpool gave Logan a brief pointed glance before returning his gaze on Stiles. “Your disappearance is quite the big news, bub. The adults are worried, the children are crying in despair for your return. I promised the Professor my good deed of the day is to find you and bring you home, dear. Oh, I won’t reveal who the Professor is in this fic, wouldn’t want to disappoint you readers. Although is it ironic that no one has the simplest idea that you’re _home_?”

“Home?”

“Yes, with the italics, emphasize the italics.” Deadpool sighed with much exasperation at the blank looks headed for him. “It’s our home, Wolfie! OH OH?” He slumped further into his seat, dejected. “Really, no one at this table watch my movie? Come on, it’s a blockbuster reference! Every word I said is a blockbuster quote!”

Stiles shrugged at Logan, both not getting the flair of dramatics. “I think he means you’re in Canada, in case you’re not sure where you are yet.”

Logan scrunched his nose. “I know I’m in Canada.”

“This is the saddest play I’d to be in,” Deadpool flailed woefully and wrapped his arms around Ben as he came close to their table with their food, sobbing a river into the owner’s apron. “Find me another writer, I don’t want to be in this AU anymore!”

Stunned, Ben only response was to ask him, “Do you want me to pack your food to go?”


	3. We Call Home

Deadpool sighed as he dropped into the armchair, bundling Ponyo into his lap and caressing her like a villain would to their feline companion. “Is this necessary? What do I have to do for you to follow me back?” He dropped his gaze on Ponyo. “Do you want her kibble? I can line the kibble from here back to Westchester.” Logan flipped him the finger. Deadpool blew him a wet raspberry, or as wet with the mask intact. “You know I can drag you back by the collar, right? Or the bonnet. New rule: evil does wear bonnet, and they aren’t just for the pussies.”

Logan ignored him by centering his attention on Stiles, his scowl intensified when he caught Stiles’ smile. “What’s funny, kid?”

Stiles shrugged nonchalantly as he took his seat, just like the position earlier that day. “Just thinking that the two of you could be best friends the moment you stop antagonizing each other.” The twin insulted scoffs only tugged the corners of Stiles’ mouth to the far end of his jaw. He hovered both of his hands on each side of Logan’s head, ready when he was.

“Ya know, there is a girl at home with a name that rhymes with Fawkes. And I know you want to have some steamy actions in the car with her, so why don’t we go home already to fulfill your UST?”

Stiles tilted his head in consideration. “There are people like me, people who wants to help Logan – who can help him too, right?”

Deadpool nodded absentmindedly as he scanned through the photos hanging around. “I’m sure the Professor wants to, and then there is Jean.” He cupped his mouth and mocked a whisper, “She’s this mutt’s crush, but don’t tell him yet she already have a boyfriend or–” And got a face full of pillow.

“I remembered her, you birdbrain.” Logan grumbled, this time with the lack of heat.

Stiles stared at his slumped torso and the shadows behind his eyes. At the fists tightly curled that Stiles was certain his blunt fingernails would have cut into his skin. Professor and Jean…maybe that’s why. “Deadpool, I’ll start now. Help yourself around?” He gave the man a faint grin, which no doubt echoed flashier under the mask he wore.

“With pleasure.” Deadpool purred and was on his feet the next second, trekking up to the second floor with Ponyo on his trail.

The thing with Logan’s memories, Stiles found this time as they revealed themselves like mushrooms after the rain, was that he seemed to have two sets of them. Like…like he had lived twice, in different timelines. Stiles could construe the memories of his first century without much of a bump – days in growing from a naïve child to a man who was trapped by never ending wars, who learned too much but not all – but the confusion in timelines began at the time when the Vietnam War was at its end – one was about the man that joined a military team with his best friend, the other was about the man invading Pentagon. From then Stiles separated the two timelines into two roads, divided at first but would eventually meet at the end of the split, because he remembered. Logan retained all memories, no matter the event or the span of them from his present life, no matter how inconsequential they were, or how much he would suffer under their shadows.

And Stiles knew he could not isolate one incident while exposing another. It wouldn’t be fair for Logan, for these memories shaped him, broken and piece him back again time after time. And when he remembers and doesn’t collapsed under their weight, when he’s back to the Logan known by both Professor and Jean, maybe then he can choose which memory is for keeping, which one he can let go.

Stiles inhaled deeply as he let the bond fizzled out. He was far from completing the big picture, but Logan was far from ignorant of his past now. Two Logans could finish the rest of the journey without needing his help any longer. By the time he opened his eyes and his mind was conscious of the rest of the world, Deadpool was at the last of his sentence, which was a question asked at a too perfect timing. “Hey kid, do you have anywhere we can land a jet without the natives going all crazy on us?”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Stiles nodded lethargically and accepted the glass of water placed in his hand by Logan. Ponyo was by his side then, licking his inner wrist to comfort.

“Great! So meet us there. What do you mean where, you’re the guys with bigger budgets, of course you have gadgets other than your nose to sniff us out. Toodle-doo!” Deadpool cut the line off with a suave swept of his thumb.

“You call the team?” Logan enquired with a hint of annoyance, probably at the familiarity of his team with Deadpool.

Deadpool shrugged offhandedly as he pocketed his phone. “Unless you want to walk, which does not help at all with that ‘domestically challenged’ face of yours.”

Stiles sat straighter once he finished the water and gave Ponyo a pat. “You won’t be returning home with them?”

“Nah kid, I’d earned myself a nice vacation. Unlike Sitka, I won’t be freezing my balls off here. Yet. And hey! Maybe I get to hug the koalas!”

“That’s Australia.”

“And next you’ll be in New Zealand, or Masada fighting Romans.” Deadpool waved his hand in a wide arch at yonder lands. At the door, he raised his hand with fingers held apart at the middle and ring. “Live long and prosper, folks!”

“Good luck.” Stiles waved back. Deadpool gasped with a sharp inhale, staggering to get a grip on the door, the door swinging along as he swooned.

“You get me! You finally get me! Come here and give papa a kiss!” Deadpool arms stretched wide with glee vibrating throughout his suit. Logan slammed the door shut. “Hannah!”

Logan rubbed his temple as he listened to the footfalls that were dwindling away, wishing for a cigar or tankard. Stiles chuckled at the scene, “I was right, you two CAN be best of friends.”

“Don’t encourage his insanity. Or me, I have temper issues.” Logan paused. He tilted his head just like Ponyo, intent on listening and catching all that he heard. “Professor said the jet will be here by tomorrow morning.” He stared at Stiles, a faint frown crinkled his cheek. “You can tell me where–”

Stiles stood with a grin on his face as he headed to the kitchen to prepare Ponyo’s dinner. “Or I can come with you. You still owe me an explanation, you know.”

Logan scoffed, but he allowed the corner of his lips to lift faintly.

 

o.o.o₰o.o.o

 

He was brainwashed by the enemy. Again.

Logan didn’t remember the moment he was taken away by the enemy, only he was out on the battle field with the Avengers, both teams fighting off giant porcelain elephants from another universe that had escaped through a portal that had malfunctioned (Fucking Reed…). One of the civilian hadn’t escape in time and one of the elephant was charging at their direction. Logan jumped in between and was assaulted by the trunk, sending him flying and crashing into several buildings. And the last building that broke his series of crashes collapsed on him, knocking him out momentarily. Logan rubbed the nape of his neck, recalling a prick on his skin that must have been drugs introduced into his system before the enemy deemed him safe to be removed from the site.

“And what’s the brainwashing for? Information extraction?” Stiles asked as he ambled through the sand. His hand holding the harness as Ponyo dashed around them, sometimes frolicking around the waves. A true water dog.

“I have instant regenerative cells and built-in indestructible weapon. I participated in major wars with military strategic combating experiences to spare. I kill without doubt, without noise, and with the highest proficiency. An ultimate soldier through and through.” Logan stated offhandedly, as if listing off the color of rainbow. Backwards. “If I’m completely conditioned without any awareness of my previous life, that means they secured a trump card in hand.”

Stiles was quiet in contemplation, sightless eyes staring ahead at the boulders and dunes littering around the beach. It was early, just a few minutes after the sun rose, and Stiles found the part of the National Park that was void of campers or joggers. It wouldn’t be right if there were fans – or worst, Mutant chauvinist – around, an additional distraction when all Logan wanted was to go back to the Mansion. To go home.

“But you’re more than a soldier, right?” Stiles finally said, his words slipped amongst the sea breeze, warm from the sun. “You’d been surviving for so long, you won’t be able to just settle for one role.” He quirked a smirk at Logan. “You’d be too bored and drink too much and then how will you charm the ladies and men with your beer belly?” He poked it for emphasis (sigh, still firm).

Logan merely rolled his eyes and swatted the teen’s finger away, the other hand has his boots hanging at the tip of his fingers, free from the intrusion of grainy sands. Ponyo found a stick and handed it to Logan. Logan huffed and started a couple rounds of throw-and-fetch before he and Stiles noticed an extra addition to their company.

“They’re here?” Stiles listened to the whirring of engines around the jet. He was rather impressed with the near silence of the jet as it hovered at a safe distance from them. The jet couldn’t land on the sand or risk sinking into the soft soil. Logan stared at the space with the scent of oil and metal until the pilot deactivate its cloaking feature and revealing the X-Jet in all its glory. Someone must have polished the jet prior to fetching him.

The door was opened before the tail could be visible and Rouge had her arms wrapped around Logan, squeezing him with all her might. “WHERE had you been?” She screamed into his ears, though Logan could hear the sob underneath it. “Why didn’t you come back?”

Logan smoothed a hand down her spine, giving her the only comfort gesture he knew and could express without much awkwardness. “I’m fine kiddo. It’s not like I’m been gone for long, right?”

“Five months,” Storm said dryly as she landed on the sand, grains tumbling aside from the moving air around her. Her eyes were wet though, betraying the no-nonsense look she directed at him. “You’re gone for five months. Professor and Jean were unable to locate you – we gathered they must have used an inhibitor around you to avoid telepathic detection. And we had to hear your news from Deadpool, of all people!” She then turned her gaze on Stiles, scrutinizing him with pursed lips. “He’s the one that found you, then.”

Logan angled his shoulder towards the boy, a vicious blush on his cheeks to be the center of attention as he fastened the harness back on Ponyo. “This is Stiles. Stiles, team.”

Storm whacked him on his arm as she walked passed him. “And I thought you’d at least learned to be less barbarian these five months.” Her hand was out, but upon realizing that Stiles was blind, her hand returned to her side and she offered him a sweet smile instead. “Hi Stiles, I’m Ororo. Thank you for getting him back to us.”

Stiles shrugged, and then flailed his arms gawkily. “He just wants to remember. I didn’t do much...uhh, you’re welcome?”

“It’s strange that the Professor can’t find you with his telepathy,” Bobby came forward with Kitty in tow, the latter staring intently at Ponyo. “Since he can detect any Mutant in the world using Celebro, and the both of you share the same ability.”

“Maybe he’s different?” Rouge hazarded, taking an interest too on Ponyo.

“Don’t touch her,” Logan warned. When two pairs of eyes stared at him with reserved disappointment, he nodded at the side of the harness with the words: _Please don’t pet me. I’m working_. “She’s on duty. You’ll confuse her to play with all your cooing.”

“Oh!” Kitty, abashed, apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I really, really like animals. And who doesn’t want to pet a Lab?”

The grin Stiles gave her was huge. “I know right?” Stiles bent at his waist a little as he whispered to the circle around him. “And I know she likes all of you too. She’s a grandma who likes to dote on puppies.” Ponyo still heard it all though, and gave him a disgruntled growl, earning laughter from the people around her. “And besides, you can play with her whenever you’re around town again.”

It wasn’t a promise they could lightly make. Most of the human population regarded them at arm’s length, and people in small towns like these treated them with much more hostility, mainly because of their superstition and ignorance. Storm cut in before discomfort could settle in the group. “It’s a beautiful place, it really is. Maybe we can come here for a vacation, I’m sure the other student will be excited if we can plan for a group tour. And talking about the students, we really need to get you back now, Logan. They missed quite a number of lessons.”

Logan snorted. “You just want me back so I can take away half of your weight.”

Storm grinned, delighted to be listening to her team mate’s wry remark once again. “That too.” Her wind swept the teens off their feet and back into the Jet.

Logan lingered behind, and when Rouge was the last to go, he turned to Stiles. The boy’s gaze followed the team as they disappeared into the Jet. Sometimes, when they were together, Logan couldn’t help but be aware of the knowledge that Stiles was seeing the world through his telepathy. There was so much that Stiles could accomplish, if he wasn’t physically blind. Would it be weird, or freaky, to the world around him if all they see is a sightless boy walking down a road without any aids? Shaking his head away from the thoughts, Logan stepped forward and wrapped the boy in his arms, squeezing tight once. “Be good, kid. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Why does everyone assume I like trouble?” Stiles mumbled those words into Logan’s shoulder before lifting his lips to speak in his clear voice. “YOU be good, old man. Don’t court brainwashing anymore.”

Logan laughed heartily; no doubt the team behind him was staring with the same boggled looks at his lack of caginess with the boy he’d only met two days before. He’s a profoundly sullen man, even with the company of Professor. So far, his features only softened for Jean.

“Get going, Logan, they can’t wait anymore.” Stiles gave his shoulder a gentle push. Logan snorted and messed the boy’s hair one last time, much to Stiles frustration, and headed towards the Jet. With a single leap he was in the aircraft, and the Jet set its way home before the cloak was on. Stiles’ gaze remained on the sky, inhaling salty breeze while listening to the waves as they crashed onto any surfaces that were in their way. With a last long exhale, Stiles turned to Ponyo, a soft grin on his lips. “Let’s go home.”

Ponyo barked and strolled down the beach by Stiles’ side, occasionally stopping their track so Stiles could return a greeting or two for the neighbors.

 

o.o.o₰o.o.o

 

“Hello dad.” Stiles greeted as he bounced onto the couch. Ponyo waited patiently for his limbs to settle before climbing into his lap. Her poor nose was the victim of careless assault for far too many times. “Miss me already?”

“Hmm,” John hummed, chewing his food and swallowing. “Just call to make sure I still have a home to return to.”

Stiles rolled his eyes as he rubbed Ponyo’s back. The girl’s muzzle was hanging off the couch, sniffing for any stray snack wedged underneath it. It seemed she had found something though, and Stiles let her go as she wriggled off his lap, trying to squeeze her whole head through the slit. “Daaad. Cavendish is still standing strong; do you want me to take a picture for you? The one with the road sign.”

“Why don’t you snap me a picture of Ben’s poutine? I missed them so much.”

“Ha ha. Until Dr. Gabriel clears you for red meat and lard, you’re sticking to greens.” Ponyo poked his hand with her cold nose and Stiles turned part of his attention to her. There was something between her teeth, and she obligingly dropped it into his palm when he tapped her lip. His thumb traced the smooth surface of metal, with measured cut and precise indent. A typical key. But he has the keys for all doors in a ring in his pocket, so where does this key belong? “Are you even taking them now?”

John deliberately chewed something crunchy in a loud manner, a celery maybe.

“Gross dad. My ears don’t need to suffer like this.” Or possibly it belonged to either Logan or Deadpool then. Although Stiles couldn’t imagine them to be absentminded enough to drop a key and forgets about it. Neither gave him any information or clue to contact them, so Stiles hung the key along with the other happy bunch. Hopefully someone will remember the souvenir they left behind soon. Won’t it be weird if they’re locked out of their own home?

“–thing happened, son?”

Stiles smiled bloomed as he thumbed the key. “It’s a small town dad, the most news we get is when Mr. Lewis and Mrs. Lewis get into another fight, and you had to sacrifice one deputy to their pots and pans stunts. And let’s not mention the toothpaste!”


End file.
